


The pursuit of non-bath time happiness

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bran is alive and Summer are alive somewhere, F/M, Fluff, Happy Starks, Matchmaking, Post-Canon, Rickon Lives, Shaggydog lives, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 16:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14877231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: After Jon refuses Gendry's ask for Arya's hand, citing the fact Sansa was not yet betrothed, Rickon observes and, with the help of Shaggydog, Ghost and Arya, comes up with a plan to have Jon realise he should court Sansa himself. And if it were to result in Jon being less strict about bath times, that was totally coincidental!





	The pursuit of non-bath time happiness

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Sansa and Jon are the Queen and King of North. Gendry(being old fashioned)wants to ask for Arya's hand from Jon who's being a hardass. My sister's too young. Sansa otoh is team Gendrya. Meanwhile Rickon colludes w/ siblings&direwolves,who are all sick of Jon making love sick puppy eyes at Sansa,to get them together. Rickon partially also wants Jon to marry Sansa so J can unclench¬ be such a martinet abt bathtimes. Rickon's very protective of Sansa&want to vet Jon abt his intentions too

He supposed he should feel sorry for Gendry as he stood rigid in front of Jon’s desk. It felt like a lifetime ago when Jon had been so concerned with being properly courteous and held himself correctly in front of his father and Lady Catelyn.

He pursed his lips and took pity on the boy at last.

“Arya is young still,” he stated gently. “Sansa is not yet wed either.”

“With respect, Your Grace,” Gendry replied, shifting nervously as Jon stared at him. “I wanted to be respectful. But Arya has said she will not care what you think or what you say.”

Jon chuckled, rubbing his beard unconsciously as he continued to grin.

“No. She wouldn’t.” He trailed off with a sigh. “Still, I think it best to wait for now. With Rickon only just home and the war only just over, my priority is rebuilding the damaged homes and replenishing the supplies, as well as helping Rickon integrate back into life at Winterfell.”

Gendry nodded, his eyes lowering in defeat. “I understand.”

“Perhaps in a few moons, we can discuss it again,” Jon suggested.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Gendry or that he didn’t think Arya and Gendry wouldn’t be good for each other. But he had heard of the efforts Sansa had gone to in order to protect their people and keep everything running while he was gone. Springing a wedding on her seemed unfair to him when he wanted her to have a well-deserved rest.

And Sansa also deserved to find a match of her own, with someone brave and gentle and strong, like she had always dreamed. He feared that Arya marrying before Sansa had even looked at a match for herself might spark some of the old bickering between the two of them. True, since their reunion the sisters were closer but there were still some mornings when they would snap at each other because Sansa was still as romantic as Arya was headstrong.

He refused to acknowledge the part of him that wanted to clench his fists at the mere thought of Sansa marrying someone else. The part of him which would lie awake at night and wonder how he would ever continue without hearing Sansa singing to herself while she sewed or how she seemed to be everywhere when she was needed, like some beautiful guardian angel.

Gendry left with a solemn nod and Jon collapsed back in his chair with a sigh. Reaching for the letter from Lord Umber, he scowled at the words once more and tossed it into the fire.

Just because he knew it was likely that Sansa would need to find a match, it didn’t mean he was going to start inviting the suitors here himself.

***

“NO!”

“Rickon,” Jon sighed, clenching his eyes shut as he ran a hand across his face in exhaustion.

“NO!” Rickon screeched again, clinging to Shaggydog as the maids scurried away from the steaming bath tub. Shaggydog glowered at Jon, his green eyes only moving when Ghost stepped up beside his master and gazed at his brother in displeasure.

“You must bathe!” Jon reasoned, letting his hand drop as he heaved another sigh. How could Sansa remain so calm when Rickon was like this?

“Don’t want to!” Rickon huffed, turning to bury his head in his wolf’s fur.

Ghost gave a snort of disapproval and Jon thought that his wolf may have given him a look of pity when he turned his red eyes up to him

“Rickon!” Jon snapped, striding towards his brother and reaching for him. Rickon screamed. Shaggydog growled and Ghost returned the gesture.

“By the seven, what is going on?” Sansa cried, appearing in the doorway with wide eyes, her sewing basket hanging on her elbow. Immediately, the ears of both wolves downturned and they lowered their heads towards her. Jon glowered as Sansa made a soft hushing noise at Shaggydog and patted his head.

“Now that is not very nice for me to see,” Sansa stated, kneeling before the beast. Rickon sniffed.

“Not his fault,” he mumbled. Sansa raised her eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“Jon is making me have a bath!” Rickon replied, shooting Jon a glare. “Shaggy stopped him.” Sansa clucked her tongue, turning her sharp gaze upon Rickon.

“Well, even princes must bathe,” she reasoned.

“No!” Rickon protested, albeit in a gentler tone than what he had used with Jon. "Don't want to. Jon can't make me!"

“Seven hells! Fine!” Jon barked, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Be a filthy brat for all I care!”

“You’re mean!” Rickon shrieked, poking his tongue out. Sansa narrowed her eyes at Jon briefly before her soft gaze fell upon Rickon once more.

“I thought you wanted me to sing to you,” she said, giving him a mock pout. Rickon blinked owlishly at her.

“I do! I do! Please Sansa!” he begged, finally letting go of his wolf and reaching for her. Sansa clasped his outstretched hand and squeezed it gently.

“The quicker you get in the bath, the more songs we will have time for,” she stated simply. Rickon’s bottom lip wobbled. “Perhaps, if you get ready for your bath now I can sing while you bathe. Would you like that?”

Rickon turned his head and scowled at the wall before giving a curt nod. Sansa smiled, her hand running through his curls affectionately as she cooed praises at him. Still, he shot a glare at Jon as Sansa stood and pulled him to his feet.

“Come then,” she commanded gently as she turned towards the tub, her fingers dipping into the water. “Before it gets cold.”

Rickon continued to pout but he bent over to untie his boots all the same. Jon gave a grateful sigh as he watched Rickon pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the side. Sansa was already humming a tune softly as she moved away from the tub to get the chair at the desk.

“I’ll get it!” Jon said quickly. Sansa gave him a grateful smile before turning back to Rickon, who had made his way to the tub at last.  

Shaggydog prowled around the bath protectively, shooting Jon a glare every time he circled to face him. Ghost snorted a warning at his brother as he brushed against Jon’s side. Sansa clucked her tongue as she sat down in the seat.

“Behave boys,” she commanded gently, shooting Shaggydog a firm look which had the wolf sitting back on his hunches with a huff.

Rickon stepped into the water, sliding down until his head rested against the edge. Sansa smiled and handed him a cloth. She unpacked her sewing, laying the cloth across her lap. As the sound of sloshing water indicated that Rickon had begun to clean himself, she settled back into her chair.

“I loved a maid as fair as summer with sunlight in her hair,” Sansa sang softly. Her voice was still as beautiful as he remembered it to be, when she would sit and brush Lady’s fur.

“I loved a maid as red as autumn with sunset in her hair.”

Jon pressed his hands behind him to map the edge of the desk as he sat down upon it. His eyes watched Sansa as she sang. She was smiling softly as her voice carried through the chambers, showing how much she had missed such an activity. The torches caught her hair, casting it with a copper glow that Jon can’t seem to tear his eyes from. If Sansa noticed his staring, she never acknowledged it. Her eyes remained focussed on her sewing as she continued to sing.

Rickon however, was watching Jon over his shoulder before he slowly looked to Sansa. While she was resisting looking at Jon, Rickon could see her cheeks were a light pink. He didn’t really understand what it all meant but he knew something was happening.

And he was going to find out just what it was.

***

For once, Rickon had been happy to sit and learn the house sigils with Sansa. It was true that he much preferred to run outside, the wind in his hair and mud coating his knees. But Sansa had a sweet voice which comforted him and when she insisted on taking over his lessons, his reluctance to sit and listen had begun to wane.

“And this one?” Sansa asked, fingers stroking the map gently. Rickon frowned at the fish leaping from the water, something fuzzy clinging to his mind. A woman who looked like Sansa, same kind eyes and soft voice. “Rickon, sweetling.”

“Tully,” he responded, brow still furrowed. “Mother’s house.”

“Yes,” Sansa replied, voice thick with grief before she cleared her throat. “Words?”

“Family, duty, honour.”

Sansa smiled sadly and pulled him to her so suddenly, he emitted a yelp. Shaggy’s head snapped up at the sound only to flop back down when he saw there was no danger. Rickon’s face screwed up as Sansa pressed a firm kiss to his forehead and pushed a hand through his curls.

“You can go and play now if you want,” she said softly.

“Sansa!” Arya snapped, suddenly appearing in her sister’s doorway with a body which trembled in rage. Sansa sighed and Rickon felt as though he remembered something of this sort before too. Arya and Sansa arguing over something or another.

“Yes?” Sansa responded sweetly.

“I love Gendry.”

“I know you do,” Sansa replied, frowning in confusion. “But why in the seven are you angry?”

“Because Jon won’t give us his blessing,” Arya growled. “I would marry Gendry anyway but…but I want Jon to give me away. I need you to talk to him.”

“Why me?”

“If you tell him that you approve, he’ll likely concede.”

“He always listened to you more than me,” Sansa argued. “What makes you think I can convince him?”

Rickon moved his head from side to side between his sisters as Sansa continued to look confused and Arya rolled her eyes before leaving, muttering something about useless.

Rickon couldn’t help but think that Arya was right – Jon certainly did seem to listen to Sansa a lot. Sansa even managed to get Jon to drop his strict bath time routines with soft words and sweet smiles. And those had made Jon smile too.

He could barely remember his parents. But Sansa looked like mother and Jon looked like father.

And he remembered that father had smiled for mother a lot.

***

“They are both as oblivious as each other.”

Rickon frowned at Arya’s voice down the hallway. He knew he was supposed to be in bed but Shaggy had been scratching at the door so he had gotten up to let him in. And now, he was curious because Arya could only be speaking about Jon and Sansa.

“I should have said I was wanting Sansa’s hand,” Gendry replied. There was the sound of a smack on skin, Gendry’s yelp and then his chuckles echoed down the hall. “Jon would have made his move then, I’m sure.”

“No,” Arya sighed. “He would just ask her if she was happy and then pine in his chambers. He will only consider marrying her himself if she asks it of him. And she never will because she is just as stubborn and oblivious as him.”

Shaggy suddenly nudged Rickon’s hand, jolting him from his eavesdropping. He quickly ushered the wolf inside and shut the door.

Laying beneath the covers, curled into Shaggy’s fur, Rickon grinned to himself as he thought of how he could avoid bath times if Jon was distracted by something, _someone_ else.

***

“Will Sansa marry?” Rickon blurted over breakfast the next morning, just as Jon took a swig from his cup.

Jon spluttered and slammed the cup down, covering his mouth hastily as his shoulders continued to shake with coughs. Arya looked up from her plate slowly, eyes narrowed as she looked over Rickon slowly. Sansa merely blinked.

“Well, I…I haven’t thought to…I would rather wait for everything to be settled here first,” she replied.

“Oh,” Rickon responded with a shrug. “So, will Jon marry first?”

“Rickon, how about we go for a practice session?” Arya asked suddenly. Her raised eyebrows told him that it wasn’t up to debate.

“What are you up to?” she hissed as soon as they were outside.

“I heard you and Gendry last night,” he answered. “And, well, if Jon marries Sansa he might not be so strict about baths.”

Arya continued to stare at him for a beat before her shoulders started to shake with the effort of holding in her laughter. She managed to compose herself with a deep breath and slight shake of her head before she clapped her hand down on Rickon’s shoulder.

“They will make each other happy if they just stopped being so bloody stubborn,” she sighed. “And make us all happier for it as well!”

***

“Marry?” Sansa repeated Arya’s suggestion, casting an alarmed look at Jon as she felt her cheeks flush at the very thought.

“It would appease the Northern Lords, wouldn’t it?” Arya replied with a shrug. “And Rickon needs some role model for functional relationships.” Rickon nodded along eagerly.

“But…we’re…”

“Cousins,” Arya interrupted. “Just like our grandparents.”

“Sansa doesn’t need to be forced into another marriage,” Jon replied.

“The Lords will keep asking for her hand regardless. And isn’t it always better for a Stark to rule Winterfell?”

“I’m not a Stark.”

“Marry Sansa,” Arya stated coolly. “And you can be.”

“We could have a political marriage,” Sansa suggested after a moment of silence. She was careful to avoid everyone’s eyes in case they should see how little she truly wanted such a thing. “At least until things have calmed down and we can get an annulment. If it keeps the Lords happy. And then you can keep the Stark name for your next marriage.”

She could feel Jon’s eyes on here but she refused to look back at him. Eventually, he gave a long sigh and murmured his consent to the idea.

 

***

“Ahem!”

Jon paused at the sound of a clearing throat and peered through the open door of his study. He blinked as he spotted Rickon in the chair, Ghost and Shaggydog on either side.

“Rickon? What are you doing in here?”

“Take a seat Jon,” Rickon replied, pointing to the chair opposite. Jon’s mouth twitched at the commanding tone and he slowly moved to the seat. Rickon nodded and leaned forward, pressing his fingertips together and regarding Jon over the top of them. “What are your intentions towards my sister?”

Jon chuckled for a few seconds until he noticed Rickon’s stern expression, one eyebrow raised in an expression so like Lady Stark that the laughter died in his throat. He coughed a little to clear it before he spoke.

“Rickon, I would never hurt Sansa,” he stated. Rickon nodded.

“That is a good start,” the boy responded. Jon had to fight to stop his lips lifting once more. He cleared his throat again.

“The marriage is merely for appearances. To give peace of mind to the people of the North and…” He stopped when Ghost gave a whine that sounded suspiciously like an irritated huff. Shaggydog snorted through his nose in clear distain from Jon’s words. Rickon groaned and shook his head quickly.

“Not good enough,” he said. “No, I am not impressed Jon.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m afraid I cannot allow you to court Sansa without the intent of it being a true marriage,” Rickon continued in a solemn tone.

“Court Sansa? What are you talking about?”

“Basically, are you going to put a babe in her or not?” Arya’s voice carried over from the door.

“A babe?” Jon repeated, turning his wide eyes on Arya, who was leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Aye,” she replied slowly, as though explaining something to a child. “Sansa wants a lot of babes Jon. The Lords will expect them too you know.”

“I won’t force her!” Jon snapped, glaring between the two of them.

“Nobody said you had to,” Arya responded coolly. “Maybe if you spent more time looking at her pretty face than her breasts then you’d see the way she looks at you.”

“I was not staring at her breasts!” Jon replied in horror. “I like the wolf bit of her dress, that is all!”

“Yes, the wolf bit that covers her breasts. How convenient.”

“So, Jon,” Rickon said. “What is it to be? Will you court Sansa properly?”

“And give her a chance to be happy here in Winterfell with a loving husband and lots of babes?” Arya added.

“Yes, lots of babes that prevent bath time!” Rickon stated happily.

***

“This was a terrible idea,” Arya muttered darkly, taking an aggressive bite of her bread as she glared over at Jon and Sansa.

Rickon watched as Jon tucked a stray hair behind Sansa’s ear and kissed her temple.  Sansa’s smile lit up her whole face as her soft gaze met Jon’s.

Ghost huffed beneath the table and when Rickon peeked under to find him curled with Shaggy, his red eyes looked up with the barest hint of annoyance. Rickon reached down and gave his head a sympathetic pat. He would be mad too if he had been kicked out while Jon and Sansa did whatever they did when they were alone.

He didn’t understand the appeal of moving furniture although jumping on the bed sounded like fun. But he decided that as long as Jon and Sansa were happy, that was all that mattered.

After all, it kept Jon distracted from bath times!


End file.
